


get out your measuring cups and we'll play a new game

by roguish



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baking, Domestic, Food, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguish/pseuds/roguish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam found a new way for Bucky to self care.  A story of healing and learning to live and love through the art of baking and enjoying desserts together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get out your measuring cups and we'll play a new game

**Author's Note:**

> title from Measuring Cups by Andrew Bird. thanks to fro_baby for help with editing and dark_willow for the support.

What shouldn't have surprised Steve, yet still managed to catch him off guard, was Bucky's propensity's for baking.  Today, Bucky was hunched over the stand mixer (pastel pink, a housewarming gift from Maria), attentively monitoring the progress of the cookie batter.  Bucky scrunched up her eyes and let out a little huff as a bit of batter flew out of the bowl, landing on her cheek. 

Steve smiled at the sight, "Can I lick it off?"

"Yes."

"I'm gonna come over to you." Steve deliberately alerted her to the incoming proximity.

Steve hopped down from his perch on the kitchen island's barstool and set aside his iPad.

Steve leaned over and flicked his tongue over Bucky's cheek, "This tastes amazing.  Sam will be thrilled to finally get peanut butter cookies."

"Yeah, I finally decided to appease him.  Why would anyone want peanut butter cookies when you could have chocolate chocolate chip cookies or brownies or something?" Bucky said.

Steve grinned then nearly bit his tongue, preventing himself from telling a story about Bucky's love for chocolate from their childhood.

This dance was familiar and Bucky could sense what Steve was thinking by then. "Tell me.  I want to know.  Even if I don't feel like it's about me."

"Yeah, okay." Steve hopped up to sit on the granite counter, as Bucky turned back to focus on the rotating cookie batter, while listening attentively to Steve as he launched into a story from their childhood involving Bucky's sweet tooth.

Bucky let out a little giggle at the funny bit, as if she had actually forgotten that the story was supposed to be about her.  Usually she was too busy fretting over Steve's expectations for her lack of memories to actually enjoy the story.

"It sounds like people didn't really know how to handle you back then.  You were angry at them all the time and yelling about capitalism, but they still felt like they had to pity the poor disabled kid." Bucky shook her head. "I think I understand that feeling now, like being on your side.  I wish I could go back and give that younger version of me this frustrated feeling towards those people."

"Well, that version of you got it better than anyone else did, even if she didn't experience it."

Steve stopped a moment thinking about it, one of those moments where he was struck and in awe that he could breath just fine and run far better than the average human.  No matter how fucked up in the brain he was, his body worked far better than the average person's now, and he wouldn't be on the receiving end of that pity anymore- especially not the way Bucky did: the harsh stares and whispers from community members, "That poor trans girl without an arm or her memories."  Sometimes his super soldier physiology was no more than a fancy hearing aid for a formerly non-hearing person.

Bucky switched off the mixer and meticulously read the next section of the recipe; she never strayed from the exact measurements or order of adding the ingredients.  She lifted the beaters out of the bowl, and started forming small clumps of dough on the foil covered baking pan.

Steve broke out of his musings. "Can I help?"

"Sure." Bucky nudged the tray to a better location for two people to work on it.

A loud and clear melodic knocking pattern sounded on the door.  Bucky tensed upon hearing the first resounding bang, then notably relaxed at the familiar sequence.  Sam and Natasha let themselves into their home after Sam finished knocking.

Nat flopped onto the couch with the remote, while Sam joined Steve and Bucky in the kitchen.

"Damn, are you finally making me those peanut butter cookies I have been begging you for?" Sam tasted the batter after kissing Steve hello.

"You whined so much about me only making Steve and Natasha's favorite flavors," Bucky said.

"Well it's true!"

"That's because you like peanut butter cookies."

Sam shook his head in dismay.

Sam was the one who introduced Bucky to baking.

Bucky had been having a particular bad string of days- well weeks was more accurate.  She had reached the point where she had sent Steve away, overwhelmed by his expectations for her memories to return.  Bucky spent most of her days sulking around Sam's apartment.  Natasha was there sometimes, since it was the closest thing she had to a home.  However, she spent most of her time out gallivanting around the planet extracting information for Fury.  When Natasha was around, Bucky was able to settle down a bit; her skittishness momentarily halted whenever Natasha snapped reassuring words in Russian at her, allowing Bucky small moments of peace with herself.  Furthermore, the complete assurance that Natasha was always just as keenly hyperaware of her surroundings as Bucky allowed her to let down her guard a bit, at least long enough to actually enjoy a full twenty minute episode of Parks and Recreation.  Sam tried watching TV with her, but she was never able to relax enough to make it more than five minutes into a show.

Eventually, Sam realized that it was time for some self care.  He gave precise instructions to Bucky for the next day and drove to his sister's house to play with her two kids and large fluffy dogs.

Kim cooked dinner while Sam sat on the floor entertaining the kids.

"So how are you going to take care of yourself?" she asked him.

"Probably more activities in my schedule. Starting to tell Bucky when I need time to myself, and then following through and taking that time," Sam answered, clearly having thought about it.

"Have you gotten to spend time with Steve?  I think you need each other in different ways than you and Bucky need each other, and with Bucky needing space from Steve, you should still be making time for that," she said while stirring the pasta.

Sam was interrupted from his train of thought by his niece tugging on his sleeve.  He momentarily switched his attention to helping her with a puzzle but finding the piece she needed, and placing it within a small pile of pieces to make her search for it easier.  She thanked him and returned to sifting through the fragments of a farm drawing.

"What was I, oh yeah, Steve..." he returned to Kim, "That is a good point.  I don't think we've been taking enough time together.  I should arrange to spend the night at his place next time Natasha is over.  Maybe I can take him out for a nice formal dinner before then."

"Your dating life confuses me to no end.  Like your friend group is all kind of dating each other?  I think?"

"It confuses us too.  Anyway, do you have any idea of how I can help make Bucky more settled and have fewer bad thought cycles?  Maybe even if it's just a distraction?" Sam grabbed one of the dogs, an English sheep dog, as it wandered by.

"What about baking?" Kim said.

"That's kinda genius, if she actually takes to it."

"I'm glad you think so.  Do you mind getting the kids ready for dinner?"

Sam sent Katie to the kitchen and went over to get the one year old, who was being kept a safe distance from Katie, since he was an incorrigible puzzle destroyer.  He grabbed the baby and prepared for dinner.

On the way home he picked up a whole shopping cart full of baking supplies as well as roughly ten cookbooks and a new baking proofed iPad case.  At home he unpacked the groceries and unsubtly dumped the books on the bed he was sharing with Bucky.

The next morning he woke up to the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies.  Apparently Bucky believed that it was never too early for sweets.  Sam could live with that.

Now, Sam had finally gotten the peanut butter cookies he had been urging Bucky to make for months.  It had taken a lot of whining to achieve, but Bucky had finally caved.  They tasted delicious and were everything Sam wanted.

Steve had to admit that the cookies actually did taste good, despite lacking chocolate.

"A few months back I saw place that sold cookies with Reese's cooked into them.  You should make those," Steve said.

"I could maybe try that," Bucky shrugged noncommittally.

"Oh, so you'll make what Steve wants.  I see how it is," Sam said.

Bucky protested the accusation.  Steve knew that Bucky wasn't lying, sadly.  She was always so deliberate about her interactions with Steve, Sam, and Natasha, always concerned that her behavior was good enough for them.

After each of them had snagged one cookie directly off the baking pan, Bucky failing to shoo them away, they made their way to the kitchen table. After Sam, Natasha, and Steve were seated, Bucky brought over the cooling rack with the rest of the cookies.  As soon as the tray hit the table, the four of them grabbed at the most appealing looking cookies, hands getting tangled in the chaotic and competitive process. Sam poked Steve in the side to distract him, while he snagged the cookie that Steve was aiming for.  Steve yelped at Sam's poke, then tried to recompose himself and grab at another cookie.

Sam munched on his prize contentedly.

~~~

Steve was supervising Bucky while she endeavored to make key lime pie.  Steve sometimes jumped in to help with the oven, because ovens and metal arms generally don't mix well.

"What inspired the key lime pie?" Steve asked as he ran a sponge over the granite countertop.

"Pinterest," she responded.

Steve chuckled a bit, reminded of how fans had a propensity for assuming the neither Bucky or Steve had learned how to use the internet, none the less social media.  The week before, he had to make a public statement saying that he managed his own twitter rather than an assistant or publicist.  Yes, he did quote a radical trans woman and anti-capitalist on twitter, and no, he wasn't hacked, no further comment.  SHIELD and the government were on his ass about that.  First off, why did people assume that him or any of his partners had money or that Tony fucking Stark cared about them enough to give them money, so the idea of him having a personal assistant was ridiculous, and furthermore, people couldn't seem to fathom that the person behind Captain America was an radical leftist.

Regardless, Bucky and Steve were both very adept at social media.  Steve removed the pie from the oven after the timer went off and announced that he was bringing the pie to the counter.  Bucky stood over the pie for awhile, admiring her creation.

Steve started washing the dishes, "You should consider learning to do this while you bake."

"Probably," Bucky shrugged.

Sam's unique knocking pattern sounded throughout the apartment while Steve was elbow deep in dish water.  Sam wandered into the apartment, threw his bag into the chair.

Sam grinned at Steve, "I see you finally decided that you can do dishes."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Yeah I'm not too old and frail."

"Bucky, what did you make for us today?" Sam asked.

"Key lime pie," she responded as Sam came in sightline of the baked good.

Sam froze.

"I thought it might be something you would like, and Nat was all for the idea.  You have weird tastes in desserts," Bucky said.

"Yeah," Sam squeaked, as if barely registering what Bucky was saying.

Steve's eyes went wide, as he noticed the way Sam had a death grip on the counter.  He quickly dried off his hands and moved towards Sam's general direction while keeping some distance.  Bucky had already noticed by then, and was hovering attentively by Sam.  Sam's heart rate visibly increased, and his breathing quickened.  Steve knew from his own experiences, and witnessing Bucky and Natasha's episodes, that this was definitely a PTSD induced flashback.

Steve had witnessed and experienced many such incidents, yet never with Sam.  Sam was usually the one coaxing them through it, often with Bucky's help, who's hyper-empathy assisted with his ability made him a great ally to people in these instances.   Steve could usually handle this.  He had discovered early on that Bucky, despite not having any memories of their life before he was taken by HYDRA, still had the same responses to certain forms of physical contact.  The light caresse up and down her spine caused her to relax while confronting inner demons tied to HYDRA repeatedly wiping her memories just as well as they did when Bucky would find roaches crawling across her kitchen floor as a child.

Regardless, Steve was accustomed to these kinds of events.  Despite this, Steve was panicking.  He had no clue what to do for Sam.  Sam was not Bucky, and Sam did not have Bucky and Natasha's weird connection that they used to snap each other out of it.

Steve stood frozen next to Sam, who was looking frightened and panicked.  Bucky immediately took him, and guided him to sit down on the kitchen floor.  Natasha, finally seemed to notice, yet she stayed even further from the rest of them, clearly unsure the best way to be helpful.  Steve navigated around the kitchen island and sat cross legged facing Sam, mimicking Bucky's position.  Steve shot Bucky a look attempting to convey his uncertainty.

"Sam," Bucky said softly as she used her real arm to tentatively touch Sam's wrist.

Sam didn't seem to be reacting negatively to the physical contact, so Bucky began stroking his arm.

Bucky attempted to talk Sam down, reminding him where he was, how much Steve, Natasha, and herself cared for him, and supplying Sam with breathing techniques.  Sam eventually returned enough to realize where he was, and he looked around at Steve and Bucky and put a hand on each of their knees.  Steve looked over to find Natasha wide eyed and afraid, edging towards the group slowly, guilt for feeling unable to help someone she cared about.  Steve was in a similar boat.

Steve scrambled for something to say, worrying that he was leaving too much responsibility and emotionally draining work for Bucky, "It's okay.  We're here for you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sam said, his eyes welling with tears.

"It's okay.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  Can I hug you?" Steve asked.

"Yes."

Steve shifted and wrapped his arms around Sam.  The tears violently escaped from Sam's body and a shaky sobbed shuddered through him.  Bucky started rubbing his shoulder, while Steve kept his limbs tangled around him.  The crying alarmed Steve, coming from Sam; Bucky cried an enormous amount, a more silent constant stream of tears than this aggressive sobs from Sam.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve offered when the worst of the crying subsided.

Sam nodded as much as he could while being smothered by Steve, "I don't want you to feel like it's your fault though, because it's not."

"We have nearly all inadvertently triggered each other," Bucky said.

"But I know you feel guilty anyways."

"There's nothing you can do about it.  You can tell us if you want," Steve said.

Sam sighed, "Okay.  I have a lot of memories connected to Riley and key lime pie.  It was his favorite dessert. Mainly the smell of it is just strongly attached to him, and so my brain snapped me back to the day of his death."

Steve released Sam from his octopus grip in order to talk to him better, "Do you want us to get rid of the pie?  Is there anything else we can do right now, and what kind of things do you think it might be a good idea for us to avoid for you in the future?"

"You can eat it.  I think just taking some time to distract myself might be best in someplace not too over stimulating.  Maybe if one of you could be with me that would be nice, just to like talk at me about random things?  I can't think of anything else that I associate that much with Riley, but I'll let you know if I think of anything."

"Okay," Steve had been keeping an eye on Natasha as well, who was still looking panicked and moderately ashamed for not helping, "Natasha do you want to hang out with Sam?"

"Yeah.  That sounds good," Natasha said.

"Maybe all four of us can do something later tonight, like play a board game?" Bucky said.

Sam nodded, "I think I will be up for that by then."

"How about we do that at nine?" Steve suggested, knowing that Bucky needed to schedule activities, since uncertainty was a lot for Bucky to handle.

Steve and Bucky spent some more time talking Sam down, unpacking Sam's emotions, while also interrogating the effect the episode had on the rest of them.  Then Natasha and Sam retreated into one of the apartments bedrooms, the one that Bucky, Sam, and Steve also slept in together, while Natasha usually preferred her own space to decompress.

At nine o'clock sharp, Natasha and Sam emerged while Sam and Bucky were setting up the involved strategy game.  They settled onto the floor, and started the game.

After the game, Bucky got up and retrieved a tin of toffee she had made the day before.  Still, lounging around the Scrabble board, the four of them shared the dessert.

**Author's Note:**

> also this was my final for my gender and disability class.


End file.
